Pardon Me by Bruce McRae

Lady of Pain,
pardon my lugubrious flippancy,
my jaundiced naivety –
but it’s this struggle against
all that is pointless
and how it wears me thin.
It’s this emotional poverty
I carry as if a sack
of broken clocks and trinkets.
I’m like a man with a stone
in his shoe setting out
on a long walk.
Wherever I go I hope
I never get there.